Trick of the Light
by Lamby
Summary: When Gambit is set up for a murder he didn't commit, his search for vengance becomes a race against time and across France to save his brother's life.
1. 01

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gambit, and having never owned any comic, never mind a Marvel one, all interpretations of the character and his past are derived from X-Men and X-Men Evolution cartoons. Settings and descriptions are inspired by the movies.

**A/N:** I do own Blaze. Apologies for gruesome imagery ending this first bit, rest won't be so graphic.

**01**

"So if the Contés are paying Isis off to keep her mouth shut about the Cannes affair, but Trey is in a bidding war with Pierre Cardome back in Paris over the Moulin contract, are you sure that we've covered our backs? Is alternatively sweet-talking and beating the crap out of Mika and his crew going to confuse matters enough so nobody realises what we've been up to? If they all knew we'd beaten them to the file, they'd be after us before we got chance to sell it on. And who are we selling to anyway, the Contés or Isis, or someone completely different?"

If Gambit hadn't known exactly what his apprentice was talking about, she would have lost him way back in that little speech. The Cajun master thief shook his head slightly, opening the door to his room in the crummy roadside motel and let his apprentice enter before him. They were currently somewhere near Arras, in the Pas-De-Calais region of Northern France, It had been a very long night and they had worked damn hard for the last twenty-four hours. But it had been worth it, the CD-Rom in his trench coat pocket worth Blaze's weight in cold, hard cash. The nineteen-year-old ex-thieves guild boy wonder collapsed casually on the creaking bed. He shrugged out of his coat and kicked off his boots, reaching for the laptop on the bedside table as his seventeen-and-a-half-year-old English apprentice went to put the kettle on.

To look at them, no one would have believed they were high on the Parisian police's most wanted. Not to mention hunted in a solid handful of other countries worldwide. Two mutant kids; he with his startling red-irises-on-black-whites eyes, mop of untidy red-brown hair that permanently needed cutting, over six foot now and getting more muscular by the day. His mutation was the ability to charge solid matter, breaking chemical bonds and releasing stored energy via explosions. Gambit was confident in his skills both as a mutant and a thief. Blaze on the other hand was a mutant in the strongest stages of denial. A petite redhead, she'd grown up a lot since he'd first taken her training upon himself. Her quick mind, wicked sense of humour and willingness to try anything once kept Remy entertained. Her melting brown eyes, flawless skin and feminine curves too much temptation that Gambit swore he never would give in to.

"We'se see Petite," Gambit finally answered her questions as vaguely as possible. She'd learn one day this whole game was about waiting to see what happened, not about planning for every eventuality only to have life come back and kick you where it hurt. "It all about leverage."

"Yeah well, you're getting obsessed with leverage and it's giving me a headache. Whatever happened to straightforward nicking stuff?" She smiled at him as she leant back on the surface behind her, waiting for the kettle to boil. Dressed casually in flared jeans and trainers, her long red hair tumbled in curls around her face and down her back. She had the power to create fire, but she couldn't control her murderous ability. So instead she had a whole rigmarole of meditation and breathing techniques, little rules and mind-over-matter tricks that kept her power wrapped up inside her. And having seen what she was capable of, seen the corpses charred in a Parisian alleyway, whatever she did to stop it happening again was fine with Gambit.

"This nothin'," He quipped offhandedly, shoving the disk in the drive and booting up the file. "I ain't even got you started on blackmail yet..."

"Sounds interesting." Blaze rolled her eyes sarcastically, turning back to her brew-making activities. "Coffee or tea?"

"Coffee, t'ree sugars, no milk." Gambit ordered, making Blaze wrinkle her button nose at the though of it. She liked coffee plenty, the sweeter the better, but no milk? Yuk. She sighed, pouring the boiling water into two vaguely clean mugs.

"I ache all over," The redhead moaned, "Do you think the baths in this place are big enough to use?" They'd only been at this motel a few days and Blaze had done little but complain about Gambit's choice of establishment ever since. Still it suited him perfectly, as the motel was completely anonymous.

"Depend what you wanna use 'em for, non?" Gambit bantered whilst taking the hot mug from Blaze's hands, without shifting the laptop that sat on his lap.

"Eugh, thanks for that insight." The not-so innocent, at least not as he'd first feared, English girl pulled her face comically. Gambit smiled as he replied, "Hey, you filled in the gaps yourself Cherie."

"Well," Blaze changed the subject, "Seeing as my room still doesn't have running hot water, can I use your bath? Promise I wont be long."

"Sure Blaze, jus' don't flood the place." Remy waved her away, frowning as he began skim-reading the stolen data, reaching blindly to put his coffee down on the bedside table. He was so tired his muscles were tense with it, his eyes hurting a little as he tried to focus them on the unforgiving laptop screen. But this had to be done, he needed to check it was complete, make sure he really did have what was wanted... Blaze busied herself digging out a clean-ish motel towel, brown, to match the scruffy room's brown bathroom suite and beige tiles, not to mention the assorted mould and fungi, then headed for the cupboard-sized en-suite's door.

"Oh merde..." Blaze's awed voice caught a little huskily on the back of her throat, made Gambit look up instantly. She hung onto the door as if standing alone was suddenly impossible, but the faux oak enamel under her fingers was already blistering and blackening as her control on her powers slipped a little. Worried, Gambit moved the laptop and clambered back to his feet, taking Blaze's warm wrist and moving her hand from the door before the room went up in smoke. She didn't protest, swinging away from the bathroom as the towel dropped to the floor. Blaze's pretty face was grey and she looked seconds from vomiting. Gambit glanced through the door.

Red. The bathroom was covered in it, the air thick with the stench of it. Blood splashed up the beige tiles in fountains, human body parts in the sink and on the floor. The shower curtain was hung in tatters, thick with the coagulating crimson liquid. His toothbrush, well, suffice to say Gambit would be stretching to a new one pretty sharpish. What was left of the body, a broken torso and some poor idiote's head, were still in the bathtub. His eyes were open, shocked and very, very dead. Gambit shut the bathroom door. Blaze threw up.


	2. 02

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Gambit

**A/N: **Do own Blaze.

**02**

They had two choices. Stay, call the police, and face all the complications that would involve. Or they could run, telling no-one, full knowing that blame would immediately fall on their heads. Blaze knew before Gambit even opened his mouth which option he'd choose.

"Pack. We leavin'."

Blaze nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and heading to her own room across the hall. Packing didn't take the Cajun very long, barely minutes later he was tugging the zip closed on the holdall stuffed with unfolded clothes and forged ID. He scooped up the computer, hiding it in a nondescript rucksack and swearing that there was no way after all their hard work he was losing that disk. Remy didn't even glance apprehensively at the bathroom door as he made his exit. Crossing the hall he entered Blaze's room without knocking, finding her almost done too. Packing unfortunately was something even the untidy Blaze had down to a fine art. All came with the job.

They dropped their bags out the window so as not to look like they were leaving to the staff on reception, just another trick to avoid paying for their rooms. Bags recovered, Blaze instantly began eyeing up the vehicles in the parking lot, looking for one that would be easy to hotwire.

"You know what easier than hotwirin' a car?" Gambit asked, reaching in the pocket of his brown trench coat and forcing a small smile, "Not hotwirin' a car." With a 'beep beep', as he pressed a button, a sleek silver Mercedes Benz unlocked itself in front of them. Blaze looked up at her friend with an excess of awe in her deep brown eyes as Gambit opened the driver's side door.

"Who'd you get the key off?" The redhead questioned, throwing her stuff in the back and strapping herself into the passenger seat as Gambit started the engine.

"Some loser in reception." He shrugged, "It matter who it was?"

Blaze didn't answer, rolling down her electric window as Remy pulled out of the car park. With fantastic aim, she lobbed the two sets of room keys in a roadside rubbish bin, then let her arm drape down the exterior flank of the car in tiredness. Gambit knew how she felt, rubbing the tense muscles in the back of his neck and trying to focus on the road. Blaze cleared her throat.

"So, um, do we know who that was?"

"Whoever he was, he ain't no more." Remy answered pragmatically, frowning.

"They're going to think that we did it." Guilty conscience, she wasn't thinking who might have killed that man, only that first thing first they needed to avoid the authorities. Gambit thoroughly approved, but knew it was an ingrained phobia in the girl who'd been a criminal on the run well before he met her. And right now it was blinding her to the bigger picture, why exactly there was a body in Gambit's bathtub that looked as though it had been blown apart...

"Non, Cherie," He corrected her carefully, "They gonna t'ink I did it. It a set up, somebody want me to go down for it."

"You sound very sure..." The English girl didn't, looking at him sideways.

"You ain't never seen Gambit explode nobody Petite. Whoever set this up has, an' there ain't too many of them."

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They drove to Calais, ditched the car in a public car park and walked to the station. Surprisingly they paid for their train tickets, but cunningly charmed their way into the first class carriage free of charge. The day was bright and breezy, the sweeping French countryside around them trapped between spring and summer as they headed towards Paris. In the window seat Blaze slept, exhausted, breathing slow and arms holding her red-brown leather jacket closed around her. Gambit drank coffee and picked at an inedible sandwich, half-listening to the chatter of tourist and businessmen around him.

A boy across the isle watched the Cajun attentively, unblinking, staring at the mutant's strange eyes. Gambit threw the child a smile; one that quickly faded as the boy's father spotted a mutant sat so close and decided it was time for them to move seats. With a shrug, Remy pulled a pack of cards out of his pocket and began shuffling them evenly. Anything to keep his mind off what they had to do when they reached Paris...

With a start, Blaze woke up, terror in her bloodshot eyes. Gambit shifted in his seat protectively, turning his back on a businesswoman sat across the way who sneered scornfully in Blaze's direction. He'd like to see that woman find a body blown apart, let alone cope as well with it as Blaze was.

"Nightmare Petite?" He asked softly, "Today ain't nothin' to be afraid of..." He couldn't say anymore but Blaze knew what he meant. Still she shook her head and looked vacantly out of the window.

"Its not that." The younger teenager swore, "Sleep if you want, I can't go back now..."

"You wanna talk about it?" Gambit knew he wasn't much cop at this counselling lark, but like Blaze he'd try anything once. Blaze just shook her head again still looking out the window. All she'd say to appease him was "My parents."

At that Gambit squeezed the shoulder of the girl who's new burst of mutant powers had killed her own family, but then left her be. Despite the coffee, sleep found him quickly.


	3. 03

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Gambit

**A/N: **Do own Blaze.

**03**

"Pop quiz Petite, who in Paris you go to when you wanna track somebody down?" Gambit kept his voice even and impartial as he asked, not glancing at Blaze as they left the underground métro station and began walking back towards their old haunts. The redhead thought about it, considering, her fine brows knitted together as she worked it all out. Eventually she answered, voice impassive. "Etiole."

"Etiole dangerous, Blaze," Remy cautioned, "She not owe nobody nothin', an' she don't work for free. I don't t'ink you ready for dealin' with her..."

"And if this was just another training exercise maybe I'd agree with you." Blaze rationalised. Thief she may be, but Blaze knew to be as good as the Cajun would take something else. They may split the profits fifty-fifty, but she was quite happy to still be learning from him. "But it's not Remy, is it? This is serious and we need whatever we can get. Whatever we can pay for. Or do you want more bodies turning up in unexpected places?"

"Non, merci." Gambit answered with a wry smile. "Etiole it is then, we deal with her together okay?"

"Fine by me." Blaze answered, resetting her bag on her shoulder and shaking her hair back from her face, "And the sooner the better..."

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It was a complex life, that of a thief. Gambit and Blaze were no petty carjackers or shoplifters, no drug dealers or trivial burglars, though they knew and dealt with a few of each. Gambit and Blaze worked for the most part as subcontractors, stealing artefacts and information to order for high-quality clientele. The most dangerous and most rewarding type of thieving. If somebody wanted something they couldn't get legally, they would approach a broker, a contractor, and agree to pay a price for it. The contractor would then put the contract up for bids, the successful thief most likely the one with both the best reputation and the most reasonable price. Then all that was left was the actual thieving. The oldest and most powerful contractors were the original thieves guild, Gambit's ex-associates, though he avoided anything to do with their international organisation since leaving New Orleans.

Still there were plenty more contractors to be found, here in Paris as in anywhere else. Seduced by thieves offering favours, they were always powerful individuals, usually proven criminals themselves at some point. It was a life Gambit could see himself living quite happily in a few years, in control and in demand. If Blaze carried on getting better and better he'd have all the support he needed to set up his own collection of associates, his own business. But right now the roles were reversed. Now they wanted a contractor to work for them, to get his or her network of thieves on the lookout for the information Gambit wanted. And it was going to cost.

"C'est tres simple Etoile..." He was letting Blaze do the talking, the French the girl spoke issued with a perfect Parisian accent. Half the people they knew here hadn't realised Blaze was English, just as half the Germans they knew thought she was from Berlin, her exceptional memory for languages a skill not easily dismissed. "Combien?"

"You ask how much when you have not told me what it is you want." Etiole, a mutant Frenchwoman in her mid-forties with deep charcoal skin and eyes like firebrands, asked sharply. Information was her business; she knew more about both of Paris' most notorious thieves than either of them were comfortable with, including who Blaze really was. Not even Gambit knew Blaze's real name, but if he had wanted to betray Blaze enough to find out Etiole would be the person he would go to. Likewise Blaze didn't know what the Cajun was doing out of New Orleans, but their mutual respect prevented either from breaking into those secrets.

"Like Blaze say, it simple..." Gambit cut in, leaning on the wall at that back of Etoile's flamboyant flat and folding his arms. When he had his own contractor sideline set up this was the type of place he would want. The flat was classy, expensive, and right where the action was in the city centre of Paris. Not that he thought he'd ever get used to just staying in one place... "We want info on one guy. You tell us where he is, we pay up."

"Qui est l'homme?" Etiole asked smoothly, eyes glinting. Gambit knew she was busy calculating, working out not only how much she could ask for from the two of them, but also how much the info that they were after someone would be worth to their enemies. They wouldn't just be paying her to tell them what she could, but also to keep her mouth shut about what they were up to. It didn't suit Gambit at all that whoever set him up knew he had Remy on his tail before the Cajun got to him. Gambit hardly noticed Blaze's sharp but confused glance as he confessed who it was that knew more than she did about him, about his powers...

"He my brother, Bobby le Beau..."


	4. 04

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Gambit

**A/N: **Do own Blaze.

**04**

"Ha," Etoile laughed sharply, flashing her teeth. "It is a good thing that you came to me, mes enfants. Not many would knowingly track down a member of the guild of thieves."

"Can you help us or not?" Blaze snapped, hand on her right hip. Gambit could tell the redhead didn't like any of this one bit. Mentally he willed her to be patient, but telepathy, along with patience, was not a skill the fire elemental professed in numbers.

"You pay in advance, and I will find you someone who know where le Beau is." Etoile was ever confident, oozing her apathy over the whole thing as she sipped wine from her crystal glass.

"An' the price?" Remy pushed. Etoile only shook her head, amused. "You know the price, les Contés est associates de moi, et l'information tu have in your possession ces't tres valuable to them."

"I don't got nothin' on me." Gambit lied easily, his fingers brushing the disc in his pocket as he spoke. But Etiole read even that slightest movement adeptly, raising an eyebrow and looking at the same pocket of the Cajun's coat. Knowing he was cornered Gambit had little choice but to pull the CD out of his pocket. Blaze actually looked away, disgusted and disappointed as all their hard work was suddenly so easily given away. The lethargic way that Etiole took their prize stung bitterly, but Gambit knew it could not be helped. This was not something Etoile would negotiate over and he needed to find Bobby.

"There is a safe deposit locker at l'aeroport, nombre 7071. Check it in three days, no sooner. I will have a contact for you by then. He will tell you where your brother may be found..."

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The dark and weary bar didn't know what hit it when the girl entered. One athletic half-stride, half-leap, and her stiletto boots were on the wooden bar top. Her bejewelled hand caught a shiny steel pole that supported the end of a high shelf of glasses. Gracefully she weaved around the pole, body confident in its movements not unlike an erotic dancer, her expression and aura dark. She stepped slowly and carefully along the bar between the scattered drinks on the counter not even knocking a single pint. The drinkers at the bar gawped and ogled at her but she ignored them, eyes on her quarry. Smiling ominously she stopped over him, hands on her slender hips as with the toe of a boot she tipped his beire blonde over, spilling it on his lap. Almost comically the small, rodenty man looked down at his drenched clothes, then at his empty glass, and then up at the glamorous girl in front of him. He sniffed.

"F...Fire witch! You stink of it!" Blaze's smile faded and her elaborately painted eyes narrowed as she replied hotly.

"Are you wanting to get better acquainted with the soles of my boots or something, Shrew?" She asked, but the scrawny informant didn't reply, sucking his teeth and shaking his head as he backed away from his stool and the teenager. He crashed straight into Gambit, not realising the Cajun was there, spinning around in shock. Blaze reached her arms up above her head as Gambit shuffled a few cards menacingly, grinning. Grabbing the glasses shelf with both hands, Blaze swung herself out lithely to land on both feet on the sticky floor. Finding himself trapped between them, Shrew was visibly shivering. Gambit glowered at the bar's other occupants, all of who suddenly found more pressing things to gawp at before the Cajun actually spoke.

"Now we got your attention, you got somethin' we want..."

"I..." Shrew stuttered, nose twitching, beer dripping from his clothes. "I... Well... I..."

"You t'ink Etiole know she got someone dis dumb workin' for her, Blaze?" Gambit asked the redhead, folding his arms. Blaze shrugged half-heartedly, shaking back her long curls, lips pursed to keep from grinning. Gambit could tell that despite everything this terrified mutant criminal had Blaze well amused. It was always nice to have scum scared of you...

"Etiole?" Shrew's nose twitched again at the name. "Ah, yeah, I get you. Etoile sent ya. Why dincha..."

"Get to the point." Blaze demanded, sliding her long fingers into the back pockets of her low-slung jeans. Shrew seemed unable to make up his mind whether or not he wanted to turn to face her, or keep his beady eyes on Gambit. He settled for twisting his head as far round as it would go, but holding his palms out to keep Gambit away. The result was a posture that looked as uncomfortable as Shrew was acting.

"I only know what she told me to find out." Shrew lied, licking his lips. "You want the Loire, St-Etienne, you know? The thieves guild kid, that's where he is."

"Bobby le Beau?" Gambit pushed, "You sin him in France?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's him. Only I don't think he's on vacation..." Shrew sniggered a little, his laugh nasal and cold. Blaze kicked his calf viciously, shutting him up for which Gambit gave her a thankful glance. "Aw! Whatcha do that for? I was only sayin'. Look, the guy wasn't in a good way, An' I tell you for nothin' why. Some gang got him, not the guild, an' they torturing him somethin' chronic, ok? Must really have it in for him..."

"They got it in for someone, but we know it ain't Bobby." Gambit offered, knowing his voice sounded pained and edged with worry. Blaze's look of sympathy showed her heart going out to him as Shrew looked ready to make a break for it. "They gonna waste my brother, an' to get to me..."

The minute Gambit let Blaze pass him, followed her towards the door and the cool night air; Shrew was at the payphone, punching in a number with his sweaty hands. He kept his voice low and urgent, shoulders hunched with tension. For once, he got straight to the point.

"They're on their way. I told 'em, an' they headin' south.


	5. 05

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Gambit

**A/N: **Do own Blaze.

**05**

"Merci, au revior." Gambit stretched in his seat as Blaze left the barman polishing a glass, carefully carrying two bottled beers and her wallet back to the table in both hands. "He's not talking." She told Remy unnecessarily, "And I'm sure he overcharged me."

"It don't matter little one, we in the right place, non?" Gambit offered; dropping his arms again and leaning back, lifting two legs of the chair clean away from the floor. Blaze sidled into her own seat brushing her curls back from her eyes. She looked tired, he thought, but there wasn't time to rest yet. At least exhaustion hadn't tainted her sarcastic humour.

"Hum, I guess you're right. Still, I can always dream that maybe, one day, some of the scum we have dealings with will like to hang out in a nice, civilised bar. Not some end-of-the-world dive with sticky floors, and bathrooms out of the stone age." Gambit smiled at that, she could be such a snob sometimes, but she was right. St-Etienne's worst establishment this may be but all his senses told him if they were to find out where Bobby was, this was their best shot at finding someone to tell them.

The Cajun's thoughts started to meander, as he casually swirled the beer in the bottle, watching the froth foam up for a second before knocking a mouthful back. Bobby, his own brother in spirit if not in blood, the orphan street kid deliberated. They'd been through hell and back for the guild, for their pere, the guild boss... How long since Remy had seen his kin? Since he'd left New Orleans and the closest thing he'd ever had to a family, the closest thing he'd ever had to a girl he loved...

Blaze was talking again, looking past him and over his shoulder. Gambit had to shake his head, acknowledge he hadn't been listening. Blaze frowned at him disapprovingly and then started again, voice passive but her eyes betraying her worries. "We're not welcome here..."

"Qui?" Gambit asked, "What you see Petite?"

"Behind you," Blaze nodded over his shoulder, before quickly dropping her eyes and picking at the beer bottle label with fingernail, trying to avoid drawing attention to herself.

"You know what they say 'bout peelin' labels off bottles, Blaze. You feelin' frustrated?" Gambit teased, cricking his neck and trying to appear casual as he glanced behind him.

"Not recently," Blaze countered sweetly, not rising to his words. Her eyes were deadly serious as he looked back at her again. "It's going to kick off in here if we stay much longer, Rem..." She was right, someone really wasn't happy about them being here asking questions. All the more annoying because it proved they were close. "You got any other ideas?"

"Flip the coin, Cherie." Gambit replied before downing his beer and standing as Blaze followed suit. "We don't get what we want from the underworld, there one other place we can try."

Blaze met his eyes again, leaning on the back of her chair as Gambit pulled back on his trench coat. She had only a few words to offer.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"We ain't got no choice..." Gambit answered, ignoring for now at least that Blaze did have a choice. This wasn't her battle and nobody could blame her if she just up and left without a second thought, least of all him. They moved for the door.

"Mes Amies!" A hard male voice called out behind them, making the thieves turn around. "Leaving already, my English-speaking friends?"

Three men. Gambit counted them again, just to be sure. Yep, three large, thuggish Frenchmen plus one who thought he'd been clever, sneaking up behind Blaze thinking he'd be more than enough to take out the girl. They obviously didn't know her very well... Besides the tall Cajun Blaze's jaw was set stubbornly, and he could almost sense her concentration as she kept tabs on the approaching man without letting anyone know he'd been spotted. So that left Gambit to deal with the original three...

"L'etrangeres." The obvious leader of the thugs muttered to his buddies, the tone he used derisive as he called them foreigners. Paris' own scowled, both Blaze and Gambit taking offence, but the thug wasn't done. "Sticking their noses in where they do not belong..."

"Easy, mon Ami." Gambit tried to talk their way out of this, raising his hands to show he wasn't armed. "We jus' lookin' for someone, we don't want no trouble."

"St-Etienne our town!" The lead thug smacked his chest like a silverback gorilla, heavy French accent slurring his words. "There is nobody here for you, take my word for this."

"An' if I wont?" Gambit asked, making the Frenchman smile evilly.

"Then we teach you to mind your manners in a town that is not your own."


	6. 06

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Gambit

**A/N: **Do own Blaze.

**06**

The man behind them made a lunge forward for Blaze but he was too slow for her. The girl ducked under his outstretched arm, coming up in his blind spot and punching him across the jaw. Gambit didn't get chance to watch how she fared, dropping and rolling to his right, away from the approaching yobs to stand up by the pool table. A pool cue suddenly to hand was a lightweight, thin staff slightly longer than the span of his arms. With a half jump, half stride Gambit was stood on the soft, green felt of the table, gaining a height advantage of a few feet over the other men. One of the aggressors reached to grab Gambit by the legs, pull him back down to earth. But Gambit had the cue ready, spinning it easily in his fingerless black gloves. As soon as the first man came in range, Gambit snapped the makeshift staff out, smashing the thug's hand away. Flicking back, he aimed to slam the staff end-first into the man's face.

The Frenchman leant back just in time, and trying a different tactic he put his hands to the table, lifting himself up. Cue still spinning, both Gambit's feet left the table and clobbered the thug in the chest. The large man crunched backwards, crashing in a heap on his backside on the slimy floor. He looked more than a little dazed, gasping for air. Gambit snapped the pole out again, cracking the long pool cue down hard. It smashed over the man's head, splintering as it fell apart. The man passed out, slumping to the floor as Remy eyed what was left in his hand of his weapon, before carelessly throwing it away.

"Vite!" The gang leader called, inciting his other man to join him. Both were charging at Gambit before the Cajun had chance to gulp a frantic breath. The rest of the bar's occupants cheered on the fight impassively, but were not getting involved. This time Gambit did have his feet pulled out from under him, the combined strength of his two remaining opponents dragging him and making him slip backwards. Halfway through the fall Gambit recovered his cool, arcing his body and wrenching his feet free enough to pelt both men in their stomachs. One let out a gruff groan as Remy winded him, but the leader, the only one to have spoken, took the blow without a problem. With monstrous power he had hold of Remy's left calf, twisting his leg violently. The action forced the younger man's whole body to roll across the pool table and crash onto the floor.

Quick as lightning Gambit was back on his feet, a flying leap that put him in the perfect position to punch the Frenchman's lights out, busting his nose. Blood spurted crimson over the man's chin, running into his gaping mouth. He raised his hands to cup his broken nose as if that alone would stop the bleeding, eyes blitzed with pain. Gambit felt only grim satisfaction.

There was a sudden ludicrous shout of agony behind Gambit. The Cajun spun on the spot; eyes meeting Blaze's as she savagely kicked her victim again in the small of his back. It would have taken a stronger man than Gambit not to wince in sympathy at the man lay curled on his side whimpering, caressing himself with his arms. No wasn't hard to imagine at all how the English girl had brought down a man at least three times her size.

"Enough!" Remy demanded of the bar's occupants with his point hopefully proven. When a few exchanged glances, looking worryingly like they were about to tear Blaze and Gambit to pieces, Gambit reached for his pocket. He had one card left to play, literally. Those that had started forward soon reined in the idea when a glowing seven of clubs buzzed in the air as Gambit charged it. "We can take a hint, we'se leavin'. You come after us, it open season on Frenchmen." And just to prove his point as Blaze pushed open the door to leave, he flung the card down on the pool table. The door swung shut behind the two thieves before the table exploded into a million splinters.

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On the roof of a single storey modern building, Blaze and Gambit took a moment to glance at each other, barely daring to breathe. After the fight their adrenaline was pumping and though both of them would be stiff and sore with bruises by morning, neither felt the impetus to go rest just yet. Gambit's mutant fingers traced the edge of the skylight, a slight glow and hissing sound accompanying the breakdown of both sealant and alarm circuits. Together they heaved the pane of shatterproof plastic free of the frame.

"Long way down..." Blaze whispered, peering into the abyss before them, brown eyes dilating to let in any available light trying to see what was below them despite the unrelenting, uninviting, pitch-black depths.

"You can make it." Gambit told her more confidently perhaps than he felt on this the brink of the proverbial lion's den.

"I know." He couldn't tell from her hushed voice if she was faking her own confidence or not, tucking her loose curls back behind her ears, making her two pairs of hooped earrings tremble. "Doesn't stop it being a long way down though."

"Sensors an' locks on the door." Gambit pointed out, "Pressure sensors in the floor by the door, so don't step on 'em..."

"And security trips on the computers themselves." Blaze finished for him, meeting his eyes with a sly smile. "Have a little faith will you, I do actually know what I'm doing." He nodded once, as much an approval as she'd get out of him, making her smile break into a grin as she spoke again. "Lower me in."

With that Blaze swung her legs to dangle over the precipice and held out her hands childlike to the Cajun. He took her forearms in a firm and not so gentle grip, now was not the time to be worried about being sensitive. Then Blaze was sliding over the edge, letting Remy support her slight weight as he shifted to lie belly-down on the roof. He guided her in as slowly and as low as he could before her small, warm hands slipped through his fingers and he lost her. Then there was only silence.


	7. 07

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Gambit

**A/N: **Do own Blaze.

**07**

There was a slight click and a burst of searching oval yellow light. Blaze swung her torch around just once to get her bearings, and then switched it off again in case someone saw it. Under the police station IT room's door someone's feet walking past broke the sliver of dull, greenish light. Gambit, now his eyes had adjusted to the darkens a little better, could just about make out Blaze freezing, muscles tense as the footsteps resounded in the hallway. But nobody even tried the room's door handle.

Carefully Blaze made her way to the bank of monitors, hard drives and network servers. Blaze's fingers moving quickly over the nearest keyboard made a racket equivalent to a small volcano erupting as far as Gambit was concerned. But if there was anything on the police database about local gangs with a history of torture, he had to have faith that Blaze could find it. Sure as 'gators are green she'd remember it, the English girl's photographic memory made her damn good at this sort of work.

Sat there on the roof under the moon, Gambit couldn't decide if Blaze had taken all night or been electric fast. But eventually Blaze rolled a desk chair across the floor, before climbing on its blue padded seat to try and reach Gambit's extended hands. She murmured femininely as she had to stretch uncomfortably, tips of her fingers barely brushing his. In the corridor more footsteps threatened the end to their time limit.

"Today, Chere!" Gambit whispered, flinging more of his torso through the skylight, finally taking Blaze's hands in his. The two best friends grabbed hold of each other hard, Gambit wrenching her free of gravity to swing from his arms, legs dragging. The chair she'd been stood on skidded at the force of it, flying dynamically across the sheer vinyl floor like an ice-skater. Both thieves held their breath as it clipped a desk, waiting for it to fall, clatter, give them away.

Their luck held, Gambit wrenching Blaze out of the well despite her small and instinctive gasps of protest as her arms were nearly pulled out of their sockets. Then they were gone, and none of St-Etienne's police were any the wiser.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The synchronised hotwiring of two super-bikes right outside a city centre bar, under the mellow stone buildings ribboned with prying windows, was as natural to the thieves as leaves falling in autumn. The motorbike engines burst into life in tandem, just as a drunken-looking Scottish biker complete with bushy grey beard and black leather jacket staggered out of the bar and onto the cobbled street.

"What are you people doin' with my bikes?" He hollered, Glaswegian accent strong and poetic. At the same time his skinny little brunette wife peered around him like a sparrow. Leaving the engine idling Blaze dismounted her bike again, striding confidently towards the people they were robbing. Smiling wickedly, all pouting lips and curvaceous hips, the stunning redhead stood on her tiptoes and pecked the man on the mouth. So shocked was he, he put up no fight as the mutant teenager took the motorcycle helmets from his and his wife's hands. Turning back to Gambit and the waiting bikes she tossed him a helmet, pulling her face in comical disgust at the taste of hairy Scotsman. Tugging on his helmet and starting the bike Remy stifled a grin. Blaze was many things, but shy was not one of them. The holidaying couple just stood in the broad street and gawped, could only watch as the thieves stole their prized possessions...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The sun was creeping back over the horizon as they travelled into the lush countryside of the Loire. Endless vineyards in rows of neat trellises and irrigation pipes surrounded Blaze and Remy, and the air was thick with the smell of sun-loving herbs. The ground misted with glittering dew, a gradual heat haze was rising from the road as the moisture began to evaporate. The two mutants were well aware they were disturbing the peace as they passed, bikes over-revved and angry. Where Blaze led, Gambit followed, trusting her to have some idea where she was going from the police data. She led him right to the door of the most unlikely criminal hideout Remy had ever seen, and he'd seen a few.

A magnificent chateau, a towering building created out of exuberance. Blue-grey tiles coated sloping roofs, interrupted with scattered towers and turrets like poppies in a field of corn. The dirt track Blaze led them up dragged onwards to a huge, arched front door. Tiny blacked-out windows all seemed possessed of unseen eyes. They stopped the bikes.

"Dis it?" Gambit asked suspiciously, dropping his helmet to the floor. "Gambit know you a snob Chere, but ain't you aimin' a li'l high, wantin' to break into a joint like this?"

"Trust you not to be able to tell the difference between being a snob and having standards, Rem." Blaze returned, "'Course this is it, or do you think I thought we had time for a little historical sight seeing?"

"I'se got standards." Gambit replied, shuffling a pack of cards, weighing the situation up evenly as Blaze came to stand besides him.

"Low ones." She enforced, but was smiling. "Do you think we just knock?" She nodded towards the impressive front door, and Gambit knew what she meant. This place had been built to be defendable, impenetrable. Getting in uninvited was going to prove interesting...

"Lets hope they left the catch off..." Gambit's red-on-black eyes narrowed, scanning the windows continuously for any signs of life, as he and Blaze approached the front steps to the door. That he couldn't see anyone didn't shake that uncomfortable feeling that they were being watched. "Maybe they waitin' for us..." The Cajun tried to be jovial, putting his fingers to the door and giving the thick wooden panel he slightest shove. It swung open ominously, creaking as though worn out. Both thieves held their breath, not sure what to expect...


	8. 08

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Gambit

**A/N: **Do own Blaze.

**08**

Stillness welcomed them. The neglected hallway in front of them crushed the grandness of the exterior; dirty, empty and uninviting. The two mutants entered cautiously, neither saying a word, though Gambit held the jack of diamonds ready in his hand. Suddenly he spotted something that was not right, a suspicious scar in the fabric of the ancient wall. The dust his fingers dislodged as he brushed the coin-sized hole was fresh, particles of plaster and stone. The bullet was buried an inch deep, and still warm to the touch.

"I'm getting sick of this, why am I always the one who gets to find the bodies?" Blaze whispered shallowly, arms wrapped comfortingly around her as though to save her body heat from the chilling reality of her latest discovery. Gambit came to stand by her shoulder, and sure enough two victims of gunshot wounds lay sprawled dead in front of her. Blaze turned her emotional, spark-filled eyes on Remy, trembling slightly as she confessed. "I don't like this one bit, mon Ami."

"Then go Petite." He told her solemnly in reply, putting a hand to her forearm. "I jus' wanna look some more. If Bobby here..."

"I was wondering at what point you were going to try and cut me out." Blaze told him squarely, "I'm not leaving you to face whatever's happened to your brother alone. I don't care how closely you guard your secrets, or your past."

"They one an' the same." Gambit muttered darkly, letting go of Blaze and stalking off down the hallway. Blaze followed, eyes set, burning into his stubbornly set shoulders as the corpses cooled behind them.

The signs of fighting, of death and pain in a recent, frenzied rain of bullets and here and there even mutant attacks, were hard for the thieves to ignore. Although the air was dense and still inside the meandering corridors of the historic chateau, more tangible still was the scent of blood, of sweat and even fear. The best thieves lived on their instincts, honed their awareness almost within reach of something akin to empathy. Right now both Gambit and Blaze, despite their mutations being far removed from telepathy, shivered as every sense, every nerve they possessed screeched that this was all so wrong.

Bodies. If either of them had had squeamish tendencies they would have turned back long ago. If either of them was unaccustomed, if not unmoved, by the sight of death closing its clawed grasp around another human's throat... Each person they passed, Gambit felt a sudden swell of emotion too powerful to describe. If this one was his brother... But it never was, faces sometimes strange, sometimes strangely familiar as if remembered from a dream. It hadn't been that long since he had left New Orleans that he could not recognise members of his old crime syndicate, their leading branch of the guild of thieves.

If the two mutants had not been so hypersensitive as they wandered the vaulted corridors and expansive halls, they may have missed it. A sigh so quiet, yet born of pain made both thieves suddenly look to the other in uncertainty. Pushing open a bullet-splintered door, Remy was the one to find him. But even as the New Orleans born mutant stopped dead in his tracks, Blaze was rushing past him and dropping to her knees.

"Shot in the stomach..." She pointed out, looking around her for something to use to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. "Rem, he's bleeding to death."

"But not quickly." The darkness in Gambit's tone made Blaze glance up at him suddenly. Gambit didn't say anything more, too busy thinking as Blaze reached to put a thick cushion to the man's torn belly. She didn't know if she could help, but she had to try. Gambit however had other ideas. "Wait Blaze."

Again she looked up at him, confused and becoming angry. But Gambit knew this man would die whether she helped him or not. They'd only just got here in time.

"Bernard." Remy dropped to one knee over the prone man, grabbing his stubbly chin and turning the injured man's head until he met Remy's eyes. A wave of recognition passed over the wounded American thief's features. He tried to speak but could only manage a wrought gurgle, blood brushing his lips. Blaze, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, watched Remy like she'd never seen him before but didn't say anything. "You dyin'." Gambit didn't sugarcoat the pill, "Only reason you still alive 'cause you got a message. Where Bobby?"

The man called Bernard managed a small shake of his head, pain swamping him. A few more minutes, just a few more minutes of agony, then it would all be over. He didn't have to tell le Beau anything... But Gambit had other ideas.

"You not dyin' that quick I can't make dis a whole lot worse for you, Bernard." Remy swore, lifting the man's head off the floor by his shirt collar. Blaze sat back on her heels, twisted away from Bernard's obvious agony as the movement aggravated his injury. But she didn't protest, knowing time was running out and she had to trust Remy to know what he was doing. "Give me the message, Bernard, an' I kill you now."

All Bernard could do was splutter a little more, eyes glazing over and Gambit feared he'd pushed too far. But then like the sudden click of a lock successfully picked Bernard uttered a single word, a clue worth more than gold to Remy. "Monaco..."

Bernard was dead, but this was not over...


	9. 09

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Gambit

**A/N: **Do own Blaze.

**09**

Gambit let the corpse fall back against the floor, stood slowly, eyes narrow. Blaze followed suit, stepping away from Bernard and not daring to glance over at Remy. She seemed to be searching for something to say, but a peal of unnatural thunder blasted the words from her lips as they both dived for cover behind an upturned table.

"Who's shooting at us?" Blaze demanded over the hailstorm of bullets, but Gambit only shook his head, charging the two of clubs with a whole deck ready in his other hand. The room was an open one; a dining hall with alcoves and corridors leading off enough that it could hide a small army. But the semi-automatic gunfire, though rapid, appeared to be coming from one weapon. Problem for Gambit was, where were they? And could he get Blaze out before anything bad happened?

"Go, I'll cover you!" He ordered, intending for her to make a break for the door behind them as he stood and flung his card across the room. But Blaze was taking matters into her own hands, hating to be defenceless and unarmed. Agilely she dove and rolled across the room, back to Bernard's body. Angry at her idiocy, scared stupid she was going to get herself shot, Gambit threw down covering fire as swiftly as he could, still unable to work out where the shooter was. The room was lit up orange and bright, the swell of gunshots fading slightly as their attacker obviously became bemused by, if not afraid of Gambit's mutant attack.

Bernard's handgun was a sleek black 9mm buretta with top-mounted laser sight. Blaze barely flinched as she braved the explosions and deadly bullets, to steal the gun and check the clip for ammo. A bullet grazed the ground where she had been as she eventually dived away, back towards Gambit and the door.

"There!" Gambit called out suddenly, aiming a card at a shadowy figure, high above them on a minstrel's gallery at the far end of the long, thin room. The card blew a section of the railing away as Blaze, back behind their barricade, unleashed a bullet of her own. A sharp cry fought the crack of gunfire as her bullet slammed home, and the two thieves took their chance to make a break for it. Gambit put a hand to Blaze's shoulder and forcefully shoved her out the door. They sprinted down the corridor, his longer stride carrying him past his friend, disorientated, breath gasping in his chest.

He rounded the corner and breached the tidal wave of fresh gunfire first. Blaze grabbed Remy's coat and hauled him back, pinning him to the wall, soft fingers exploring his body for any sign he'd been shot. Satisfied for now at least, Blaze let Gambit decide which way to go. He decided to backtrack, cut through the dining hall and then a featureless sitting room. Aware of being pursued, tumultuous footsteps behind them on the flagged floors, the two thieves finally burst panting back out the front door, staggering down the steps. For a moment the sunlight blinded them both, but Blaze wouldn't let not being able to see hinder them. She dragged Gambit by the arm back to the bikes before they both realised they were not going to be able to get away in time. They would have to fight.

A whole consortium of gunmen seemed to fire on them from the darkened windows of the chateau's ground floor. The stolen bikes took the brunt of the attack, shot to ruin within seconds, but providing Blaze and Gambit's only cover. The thieves fought back bravely, Gambit threw card after card as Blaze did the best she could, making sure of each shot before she pulled the handgun's trigger. It had some effect, the attack seemed to abate a little, but not enough and both mutants were fast running out of ammo.

"Can you toast 'em?" If they hadn't been desperate, Gambit wouldn't have asked Blaze to use her powers. But Blaze only shook her head, terror at the very idea more paralysing than being shot at.

"I'll kill you!" She pointed out, fire dancing bright and evil in her eyes. Last card, Gambit observed ruefully, turning the queen of hearts over in his fingers as he charged her. Don't let me down, Chere…

He never got a chance to throw it; a whirr of soulless sirens blitzed their way up the road. The gunfire stopped, the approaching police raising a dust trail fifteen feet into the air. Taking the hint Gambit grabbed Blaze's wrist possibly harder than was necessary and headed for the scrubland that had once been the chateau's gardens.

For a while, the thieves just ran. Skipping over sage and thorn bushes, dodging tumbled stone blacks from the ruinous remains of some small cottage; they tried to put as much distance between them and the authorities as possible. By noon they gave up, completely lost in the sweltering heat. Gambit's trench coat suddenly seemed like a ludicrous waste of time as he lugged it over one shoulder, head heavy, skin marred with dirt clinging to his sweat. Blaze moaned as she scratched her arm to bleeding on a stubby tree, clutching her fingers around the wound to slow the ebb of blood.

"I hate the countryside." The city girl griped, "And I think the feeling is mutual."

"C'est possible." Gambit agreed distractedly, "We need to find a car, maybe a farm or somethin'…" He gave up, shaking his head at the hopelessness of it all.

"So Bernard was New Orleans thieves guild?" Blaze inquired, running her hand through her knotted hair. Gambit nodded. "And the people shooting at us wanted us to leave as soon as Bernard passed on his message, but without the bikes, slowing us down?" Again a single nod, "So now what?"

"We go to Monte Carlo." Gambit answered curtly, knowing before she even opened her mouth what Blaze was going to say to that.

"Even though it's a trap?"

"Even though it a trap."


	10. 10

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Gambit

**A/N: **Do own Blaze.

**10**

Monte Carlo; extortionately expensive, extravagant, a Mediterranean playground for the stupendously rich, a tax haven set into the steep alpine hillside. Luxury yachts bobbed up and down on the gleaming blue sea like white diamonds on a sweep of luxurious polished silk. As though drawn by some dark and illusive force, the two thieves were pulled towards the Diamante Hotel and Casino, ersatz glamour tantalising on the Monaco air.

It made sense, part of Gambit's mind reasoned. Whoever was playing this was going to have a presence in places like this, making them easier to find. But mostly, Remy was beyond caring. Their money was gone, eaten up by the plane from St-Etienne to here. They had no luggage, no supplies or even clean clothes. They were exhausted, half-starved and needing some serious r-and-r. He was so tired that he couldn't even keep a positive mind about securing a room here. It would about figure if they'd travelled all this way, only for the hotel staff to spot the extortionists coming. At least Blaze wasn't so easily dissuaded, the energy of their lush surroundings rejuvenating her just enough. As they approached the reception desk she shot Gambit a wicked glance, this would be a piece of cake…

Not ten minutes later, the hotel operational manager no less was unlocking the door to the most expensive suite he had available, eternally professional as he thought he served a British bank executive's daughter and her fiancé, Blaze couldn't half cook up a good lie when she wanted too. The redhead tipped the staff member subtly, not betraying that this was the last of their cash as the man completed his tasks and left his guests to settle in. Blaze dragged a grey-looking Remy inside, before bolting the door securely.

"So who gets the bed?" Gambit asked, yawning and stretching. "Unless there somethin' you after Cherie?" Blaze responded to his implications with a hand gesture that would have got her arrested in some countries, making Gambit grin despite his tiredness.

"Take it, get some kip." Blaze advised, looking forward to the long, hot bath she'd been promising herself since the Pas-De-Calais. Gambit did as he was told, collapsing back on the large, overdressed four-poster bed.

"I'se got no idea what 'kip' is, but if it sleep, Gambit can manage that Petite…" He yawned again, curling up on his side on top of the now-ruffled covers. He could feel the mattress wrapping itself around his tired muscles like a lover's embrace, sighing as he let consciousness begin to slip away. "Bonne nuit."

Blaze watched him for a second, until his breathing slowed and became shallower, his muscles along his strong shoulders and back relaxed. Poor lad was whacked out, hadn't even checked they weren't being watched or anything… Gently she tugged off his heavy boots, and coaxed him softly with words and warm hands out of his trench coat. Finally she covered him up with layers of the bed's exuberant, thick covers. Caringly she stroked his hair back from his forehead, as still he did not break from slumber. Leaving Remy to rest Blaze headed for the en-suite, fingers metaphorically crossed against another unfortunate discovery. She elegantly extracted herself from her tight black t-shirt with its 'Drink 'til he's Cute' logo. Gracefully shaking her hair free down her bare back, she opened the en-suite door and cooed at the sight of the Jacuzzi bath, before disappearing into the other room. She never saw Remy closing his eyes again, smiling.

It took Gambit forever to wake again, limbs leaden and head muzzy, felt like he had gone fifteen rounds and had no idea how much time had passed. He was more than bemused to find himself surrounded on the bed by bags and clothes, whilst Blaze sat perched on a sofa, feet curled up underneath her, eating a green-skinned apple with Biblical relish.

Apple done, an over-arm lob from the girl got the core vaguely close to the rubbish bin, before she anxiously cracked open a pot of painkiller tablets and took two, washing them back with a gulp of champagne. She scowled, as though her taste buds were no longer working, then noticed Remy was lying on his side, watching her. She raised the champagne bottle, seeing his eyebrow arch as he spotted an expensive brand.

"Nope." She shook her head dainty, "They've re-badged it so they can charge more. Whatever it really is, its dog rough."

"Sly." Gambit commented, sitting up and cricking his neck, "But we can still get jacked up on cheap champagne, eh Amie?"

"Especially as, stupid expensive price or not, we're not paying." Blaze pointed out, pouring Gambit a glass and refilling her own. Gambit blinked sleep from his eyes and looked about him vaguely. Where had all this junk come from?

"You bin shopping Petite?" He asked, tugging out something lacy and feminine just because it would wind her up.

"Bathed, slept, shopped, and all the while you were flaked out like a hibernating bat in December." Blaze took her lingerie off him and walked to the window, seeming more tense and concerned than annoyed. "Are you holding up okay?"

"How you pay for all dis?" He asked, changing the subject, "You not done nothin' stupid, Blaze?"

"What like spend money we haven't got?" She rolled her eyes, looking over her shoulder at him. "Borrowed a credit card, okay. And no, I wont get caught."

"How long I bin out? Quelle heure est il?"

"Half seven." She peeled back the blind, letting in just enough of the sunset to prove the time of day to the Cajun. "We got here at eleven this morning. I was about to wake you. Bath's running, and I've room service on the way with food. Even managed to find something supposedly Cajun on the menu for you."

"You an angel, non?" Remy smiled, catching her hand and kissing it as he used her to pull himself up. Blaze smiled, extracting her hand from his and replying, "Maybe a fallen one…"


	11. 11

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Gambit

**A/N: **Do own Blaze. Once was asked if Blaze and Gambit's relationship was brother-sister or something else. The idea intrigued me, hence a few lines in this chapter…

**11**

The slick marble floors echoed the clip of Blaze's Gucci shoes as thought satisfied that she'd do. The two mutants descended the glistening main staircase from their room to the Casino side by side. Smoothly passionate music enveloped them like the heat of summer, inciting Blaze to half-dance as she walked, champagne flute in her hand. Under the chandeliers, Gambit rubbed his hands together before spreading his fingers and combing the gel back through his mop of red-brown hair. Checking his reflection in an ornate gold-framed mirror he was just about satisfied, preening a stray strand of hair back where he wanted it to be. Gel on his hands was an annoyance, but a passing bellboy's uniform soon solved that problem.

The other young man spun, angry despite his training, as Gambit wiped his slimy hands down his back. All Remy had to do though was turn on his infamous charm, giving the boy an appreciative smile, and try not to laugh as the hotel employee blushed crimson like a school girl. Blaze couldn't stifle her laughter, but somehow she did manage to warp it to sound more flattering than offensive, treating the boy to an all-over glance of her own as the two thieves stalked past.

Reaching the casino, Blaze's face was set dead straight, brown eyes twinkling like the jewels on her ears and throat. Both mutants were dressed finely in the gear Blaze had 'found' earlier. Gambit wore a silk shirt almost fuchsia in colour, buttoned only vaguely. His trousers were tight tan leather flattering to his slender figure, his boots dark brown suede and comfortable. He had to give Blaze credit, not only was it all designer, it all fitted, and he felt like he might actually stand a chance if this all came down to a fight.

But Blaze stole the show; indulging herself from the braid she'd applied to her curls, to black strappy sandals with hand-stitched detail. Her black hipsters were also leather and tight, with a steel-studded belt around her slender hips. The top she wore was rippling silver, a boat-necked, sleeveless number that clung in all the right places and complemented her make-up. On reaching the casino doors, she dropped her empty glass back on a ledge and went to push aside the door.

On impulse, Gambit reached out and touched her bare arm, making her turn back to him in a swirl of hazy sweet perfume. "Take care, little one." He told her, as she rolled her eyes at him, avoiding his soul-searching red-on-black gaze. "For once, I'm serious Blaze…" He grasped for the words to make her understand. It must have been the alcohol; he could only think to put it one way. "It bad enough, all this 'bout my brother, can't lose mon bebe soeur…"

"Baby sister?" Blaze snorted indignantly, eyes meeting his in sharp defiance. "Not in this life-time, Cajun." Throwing off his gentle touch on her arm, she stormed away. Gambit couldn't deflect his confusion, even hurt. That was the nicest thing he'd ever said to her, no doubts about it. The closest thing to expressing that he really did care about her. But Blaze had spat it back in his face, rejected forcefully that analogy of their complicated relationship… Still, he had to think positively, the mutant thief considered as he watched Blaze walk away. At least not being Blaze's brother meant he didn't have to worry about the affect that outfit was having on him…

Blaze had peeled off, sweeping left between slot machines, scoping the place out efficiently. Gambit did the same, going right towards the blackjack table, wondering if he'd get chance for a quick game later. The place was busy, Remy thought as he exchanged favourable glances with a leggy blonde. An attack could come from anywhere, it was hard to pin down anyone who looked like he or she had more to hide than the rest of the punters. Decisively and to make himself feel better, he shoulder barged a middle-aged punter as he passed, lifting the man's wallet as he apologised for walking into the Cajun.

At the other side of the casino, Blaze was flirting rather successfully with a blond young man, stood very close with her hand on his waistband. She wasn't convinced he was as innocent as he seemed, he had the arrogance of knowing there was someone watching his back. She had his wallet and hopefully some ID with little worry, stroked his jaw with a finger and started to leave.

"If my daughter behaved like that girl…" A disapproving American voice muttered in a matriarchal tone. Fuelled by alcohol and adrenaline, Blaze spun aggressively to face down the woman who insulted her; aware the blond was watching her still. The woman was plump, with hair dyed a sassy cherry and a long, black feather boa wrapped around her neck like it was strangling her. Something malicious clicked in Blaze's head, and she turned all the charm that had been inciting the young man onto the woman instead. With a deadly sweet smile, batting her eyelashes, Blaze put her hand to stroke the feather boa and met the woman's washed-out eyes.

"Your daughter does behave like me," Blaze told her, "Does dress like me, does favours for all the prettiest boys like me…" The woman's jaw fell open, but Blaze wasn't done, unravelling the feather boa from the woman's neck and draping it over her own slender form. "Lets face it, her only other choice is to end up obese and jealous like you."

Still grinning to herself, Blaze's crafty football tackle from behind dispossessed Remy's leggy blonde of her drink, spilling the cocktail all down the other girl's dress as she tripped. She had a permanently low opinion of women who wanted Gambit, didn't feel a second of remorse even with the Cajun shooting her a sulky glare. But they didn't get chance to exchange frank opinions on his extra-curricular activities, as the blond Blaze had been trying to work out approached them with a note scrawled on expensive looking paper. Both thieves read it quickly, knew their plan to attract their enemy to them had worked, then looked straight up at the steps and the double door leading to the member's lounge. This was it.


	12. 12

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Gambit

**A/N: **Do own Blaze. I'm too lazy to translate long bits of speech into French and back again, and I don't know how Gambit's accent would work in French, so I've not bothered with either for some bits of this chapter. Don't forget to drop me a review or two? Cheers!

**12**

"Are you ready?"

"Oui." Remy replied as he took in the ornate steps, the doors, and the huge security guards between them and their destination. The gorillas on the door gave the two thieves menacing looks as they ascended, but opened the doors respectfully and let them pass.

All eyes fell on them, as the brave and the beautiful of Monte Carlo's casino world parted like an opening book before them. Thick red carpet muffled their footsteps, soft light from crystal chandeliers caressed their skin, and all around them stank of stale cologne. Tension gripped them like a python's coils and doubt clouded Gambit's mind. What were they getting themselves into?

Abruptly the bitter silence was broken apart by a peal of welcoming laughter. Blaze shifted her felt uncomfortably, appearing for once a little out of her depth. But Gambit was striding forwards, pushing past those who weren't quick or willing enough to move. He greeted the young man who laughed with a scowl, grabbing hold of his jacket lapels and shaking him for good measure.

Bobby le Beau only laughed again and took his brother in a bear hug. Blaze wanted to scowl darkly, but she couldn't find that darkness in her as Remy retuned Bobby's affection manfully, before pulling away to get a better look at the brother he'd chased all the way across France to save.

Almost as tall as Gambit, and of similar age, the second le Beau sported a ponytail of mousy brown hair and designer stubble. He didn't move with the same grace as Remy, nor did clothes hang on him in the same alluring way, but neither was he a bad-looking boy. Blaze knew she shouldn't be looking at Gambit's brother so analytically, but she'd be lying to herself if she didn't appreciate these things about the thieves guild member.

"I didn't t'ink you come." Bobby's laughter dissipated as quickly as it had sprung forth, a sulky tone creeping in to his Cajun accent. "I t'ought you leave me to die Remy."

"Don't look like you dyin' from here Bobby." Gambit pointed out, voice calmer than he felt. "What's goin' on?"

"Long story brother…" Bobby smiled, shrugging, before turning to a hovering teen a bit younger than Blaze. "Razor, why don't you get us some drinks? Come with me, Remy, I tell you everythin'."

The teen disappeared with a small nod, and Gambit found himself being led away by Bobby. Blaze was following, her evil glance threatening to any of Bobby's crowd that had thought about keeping her away from the brothers. Gambit only had a few words for his brother, as they left the lounge for a smaller annexe. "You'd better."

Razor, obviously Bobby's apprentice, was back again with more champagne quicker than lightning. The scrawny black boy spoke with a Miami accent, and didn't exclude Blaze from the offer of alcohol. Probably a good thing, considering how defensive the girl was stood, arms folded across her chest and eyes watching everything. But Gambit had more pressing things to be worried about, as he and Bobby sat down in a pair of throne-like chairs facing each other.

"I don't know who they was, Remy, I doubt I ever will." Bobby began, "But they after you, that much obvious, non? They tryin' to lure you out the minute anyone here knew who I was."

"So how you get away?" Gambit asked, trying not to get impatient despite the fact he knew all that already.

"The guild, they come for their own." Gambit's sceptical expression put Bobby on the defensive, made him speak much quicker and more decisively. "Somethin' happenin' in the guild ranks Remy, an' every t'ief worth his weight to someone. Didn't understand it till they come blazin' after me."

"Looks like dis a wasted journey then." Gambit decreed, making to stand and draining his drink before continuing. "You got any idea how much you cost me?"

"I'm sorry Remy," Bobby did actually sound apologetic as he too stood. "I am. An' I be outta France an' your hair soon enough."

"Why you in France in the first place?" Gambit asked, but his question didn't put Bobby on the back foot as he might have expected. Instead Bobby glanced over to eye up Blaze who ignored his scrutiny. When Bobby turned back to Remy, he'd switched to speaking French, his tone conspirative.

"The hotel manager said you engaged to her? Didn't think you'd be that stupid again…"

"Leave her out of it." Gambit too spoke in French, "Just tell me what's going on."

"There's a job happening, here in Monte Carlo." The French language flowed off Bobby's tongue swiftly. "Its worth a lot, groups of the guild are out-bidding each other. Whoever gets it will be well set for the power games that are going on."

"But?" There had to be a catch, Gambit knew. He was proved right when Bobby nodded as he continued. "But it isn't going to be easy. We're after an ancient Egyptian artefact, a big gold disc with a diamond the size of a baby's fist in it. It's in a well-guarded building, constant security, the works… Belongs to a private collector with rooms in a hotel at the top end of the city. There's a big presentation of the relic tomorrow night. We make our move tonight and…"

"We?" Gambit snapped in French, eyes sharp. Bobby risked a small smile, playing the little brother role perfectly.

"What, your brother actually needs to ask for your help? Remy, you do this, I can guarantee the guild will take you back…"


	13. 13

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Gambit

**A/N: **Do own Blaze.

**13**

"No way!"

"This family, there jus' no thinking 'bout it…"

"I don't care!" Blaze snapped, "You're not ditching me!"

Gambit shook his head at her, trying to get her to understand as Bobby and Razor watched on. What words to make the girl see what this meant, this chance Bobby was offering him? He had only one option, and it was going to hurt her…

"I do this, I can go home…"

"Nice you got one you can go back to!" Blaze had tears in her eyes, her own home destroyed by her own hand. "What am I supposed to do? Turn myself in?"

"What you do up to you, Petite." Gambit was forceful, perhaps more so than he meant to be. "I'se not passin' this up on your say so."

Leaving Blaze where she stood, staring after her friend with mournful eyes, Gambit left the casino. By his side, Bobby matched his stride, the brothers le Beau already in animated discussion planning their escapade. Gambit realised it was just like old times…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The night was even more of a familiar partner in crime than Bobby, greeting Remy warmly as the thieves made their way carefully to a position to scope out their work. The room they were after was in blackness, up on the fifth floor of the towering hotel. Bobby had been watching the place, or had someone watching it for him, for a while it would seem. They entered via a fire escape door at the back of the building that had been mysteriously left unlocked and unguarded. The mystery cleared somewhat as Gambit spotted a package move from Bobby's hand to a kitchen worker's apron pocket as they passed in the corridor.

The kitchen staff member was the only hotel worker Bobby wanted to have dealings with, that much was obvious even if they hadn't had time to work thought the finer points of the plan already. That was where Remy fitted in to Bobby's workings out. The mutant was a master of stealth, of hiding in plain sight, and of charming his way out of stick spots. Bobby gave Gambit the credit he deserved and the room to work. But he was still impressed that Gambit had got better, not slacker, since leaving New Orleans.

They passed two patrolling security guards in the main hallway, nodding to the men civilly and commandeering an elevator quickly. The camera in the lift exploded with a soft pop as Gambit pulled his finger away, readjusting his fingerless glove and risking a smile. Bobby didn't say anything, checking the lockpicks that he extracted from inside his trench coat pocket with detailed scrutiny. Gambit's fingers found only cards in the pocket of his trademark coat, hoping he wouldn't need them for this.

Suite 501 was an executive palace. The thieves knocked the lights off in the corridor outside for a moment, double-checking that still no light was oozing under the room's door. Satisfied that if anyone was home, they were fast asleep in the dark, Gambit flicked the hall light back on again as Bobby accessed the door.

The door creaked open with the slightest protest, a gentle breeze brushing Gambit's skin as it swept in from the open window. Ghostly paintings on the walls watched the thieves with pallid eyes as they crossed the threshold. Everywhere, Egyptian artefacts vied for attention, this place a tomb raider's treasure trove. The individual they were about to rob was no different to them, only variable being he stole from the dead rather than the living.

The pedestal in the centre of the room attracted the thieves' attention quickly. Forgetting that the artefact's owner may well have been asleep in the bedroom next door, Bobby cried out wordlessly at what awaited them. A shadowy figure froze over the platform, a silhouette of jet in a vacuum-like space. Someone had beaten them up here!

Bobby charged forward, refusing to believe they had been defeated. But whoever the shadow was, they turned tail and ran back towards the open window. Jumping onto the ledge and stooped within the restricted space of the frame, the stranger turned back briefly to offer a parting salute of a hand, whilst the other clutched a dark bag possessively. The artefact, the gold disc and diamond that Bobby had travelled across the Atlantic to steal for Jean-Luc le Beau, his boss! He lunged for it.

The figure dived out of the fifth storey window and went into free-fall, arms spread like wings. At the window, Bobby gasped at such a needless waste of life, before the spinning out of a thin mountain-climber's rope by his side gave him the answer.

"Remy!" He shouted needlessly as Gambit was already two steps ahead. Grasping the rope, the mutant charged it with his power, making it glow vehemently against the side of the building. The fiction of it running through his fingers made him gasp as it blistered his hands, he was too willing to let go and release the explosion that would down their rival burglar.

Too late, the strange figure had already unclipped the rope from the safety harness and dropped cat-like to the floor three feet below. The waiting sports car was a TVR Kimera in two-tone British racing green and navy blue. Its engine burst to life as soon as the strange thief had got in, a roar like a possessed tiger growling out over the brothers' exclaimed curses. Gambit ceased charging the rope, instead following to departing thief to the ground and continuing to curse as the burning rope ripped his gloves, passing through his grasp. Bobby had the good sense to let Remy get to the ground before sliding down the rope himself.

A helpless looking Dodge Viper parked outside a neighbouring apartment complex was no challenge to the two master thieves. Bobby drove, the streetlights playing off the mid-blue paintwork with dual go-faster white stripes drawn up the long bonnet. Gambit hung onto the dashboard and Bobby launched the car onto the sweeping roads of the world's most famous motor racing circuit. The TVR was only just in front…


	14. 14

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Gambit

**A/N: **Do own Blaze.

**14**

The two cars plunged into a race to the death, tyres screeching as both speeding vehicles fought their driver's command to break. The TVR almost spun as it dived down the steep hill to the sharp Loews hairpin, skidded rather than turned around the single palm tree and the accelerated away again towards the next bend. The Dodge was bigger, clumsier, but Bobby had the nice feeling of being in control as he flicked gear and took the hairpin more comfortably.

Pedestrians screamed and dived out of the way as the TVR came round the next bend, tyres smoking as the driver braked hard, then pulled away again like a boy racer. Gambit held on grimly to the car, eyes without emotion as he began to get an idea how much this robbery meant to his brother. If the driver in front didn't drive the TVR into the harbour, Remy had a small idea that Bobby might just push the car off the road himself.

The twisted streets, the partitions of silver crash barriers, the palm trees swaying as the wind began to pick up, it was all very surreal. Speeds ridiculously high, the two cars cannonballed through a tunnel lit with stark yellow strip lights. The change was too much, both le Beaus wincing as their pupils fought to compensate for the change in illumination. The drop out of the other side of the tunnel took the cars down what the motor sport world knew as the swimming pool complex. To the right, the city swelled up into the mountainside. To the left, the Mediterranean was choppy and uninviting.

Gambit was beginning to believe that both car drivers were as stubborn as each other, and that this chase would go on until one of them ran out of gas. But suddenly the TVR did a sleek donut, riding the handbrake and pulling out of the main road. Just in time too, as a stream of other random traffic was coming the other way up the road. The train of cars slowed Bobby down as he was forced to wait to cross the traffic. The Kimera had halted on the docks to the left; the driver was out and sprinting towards the sea. Whoever it was, they were trapped, and the brothers wasted no time getting out of the Viper to tell them that.

Ominously, Gambit charged a playing card, adding the light of his mutant power to the swinging bulbs that decorated the pier. It didn't do much good, the figure was dressed in black and wearing a balaclava as a mask. Or at least, she was until she pealed it off and shook loose her hair, pouting. Blaze.

"You!" Bobby exclaimed indignantly, obviously surprised as he took a few steps forward to come between Gambit and Blaze. "I'se not know how you do this, but you surrounded. Where you t'ink you gonna go? Into the sea?"

For a moment Blaze didn't reply, eyes burning menacingly as she dropped the balaclava, still clutching the small drawstring bag she'd had at the hotel. There was something else in her other hand too, but Gambit couldn't make out what that was. The breeze tormented her hair into a halo, but she didn't flinch or step back as Bobby took another pace towards the small teenager. When she spoke, her voice was calm, well paced, and she didn't shout.

"Un," She began, counting in French. "Je suis parler le Francias parfait." That rocked Bobby, he hadn't counted on the English girl understanding all his careful deliberations with Remy earlier that day. No wonder she knew what he was after, she'd heard it all! How could he have been so stupid? And why hadn't Remy warned him about his woman? As if reading his mind Blaze carried on, voice getting louder as she made the next point decisively.

"Deux, I am not Gambit's girlfriend, but I was his apprentice." She risked a small smile, still only looking at Bobby and not at Gambit. "And three, I'm not the one who's surrounded Bobby, you are."

"What?" Bobby was incredulous, couldn't believe that this slip of a girl thought she could turn his own brother against him. Still, Blaze even had an answer for that, the fingers of her right hand twitching as she switched on the black box she was carrying.

"Yeah…" A drunk sounding Razor spoke from the confines of the Dictaphone, "I wasted the guy in the bathtub, that's, like, my mutation. Slice guys up so they look like they exploded or somethin'…"

"Your apprentice can't handle his women or his alcohol." Blaze informed Bobby as if he'd been too thick to notice his associate's flaws. "He was arrested about an hour ago, has already confessed. Hope you don't mind too much. After all, you wouldn't want your brother to go to jail for murder, would you?"

"You set me up from the start Bobby." Gambit spoke coldly, making Bobby turn his back on Blaze and look over to where Remy stood, armed and looking dangerous. "You get your man to put the body in the bath. You lure me south, Shrew was workin' for you as much as Etoile. There was no other gang at St-Etienne, it all the guild. Factions of the guild scrappin' for power…"

"Non, Remy…" Bobby interrupted, but was cut off as Gambit carried on dispassionately.

"Bernard almost screw it up for you, bringin' in his bunch of two-bit losers to take you out when it get back to New Orleans what you tryin' to do. Bernard always hated us an' Jean Luc, he wasn't gonna let you play this out." Gambit pressed on, ignoring Bobby shaking his head. "You never were prisoner an' you never were bein' tortured. The bloodbath down there on your order as much as Bernard's."

"You had us shot at, took out our bikes." Blaze pointed out from behind Bobby. "To slow us down while you got yourself set up back here at your second base of operations. If you couldn't set it up to look like Gambit needed to actually rescue you, you needed him to believe your story when he caught up with you."

"You knew I not help you thieve nothin' for old time's sake. You wanted me to feel bad about what happened to you, so then I got no choice but to help you out." Gambit finally stopped talking, meeting his brother's eyes as Bobby nodded slowly, swallowing.

"I miss you Remy, is that so bad? I jus' wanted t'ings to go back the way they were…"


	15. 15

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Gambit

**A/N: **Do own Blaze.

**15**

"Don't lie to me Bobby." Gambit cautioned. "You said it yourself, somethin' happenin' in the ranks, you need every t'ief you can get to support you. Or rather Jean Luc does, no matter I'se bin thrown out already. It all jus' a big game to you people. All that death, all that pain, an' for what? To convince the guild that if I can steal some old Egyptian relic I'se good enough to be forgiven an' let back in?"

"There more to it than that Remy…" Bobby tried, but Gambit was having none of it.

"There always is, Bobby. You jus' don't get it, do you? I ain't wanted back an' I ain't goin' back. Not ever. Get that into your skull, okay?" Gambit sighed, withdrawing his power from the playing card in his hand and lowering his arm as he glanced at Blaze. "Give him the bag, Cherie."

Bobby pricked up at that like a puppy hearing the word 'walkies'. He spun back to face the redhead, who smiled slightly as she tossed him the small bag she held. The plush velvet of the bag was warm under his fingers, the weight of whatever was inside a comfort to him as he returned the smile gratefully and pocketed his prize.

"Get lost, Bobby." Gambit told his brother gently. "I don't wanna ever even hear your name again, alright?"

"Whatever you say, Remy." Bobby was forced to cede defeat, knowing this was well and truly over. "Jus' tell me one t'ing. When did you figure it all out?"

Gambit smiled lopsidedly, his famous charm surfacing once more as he answered a little smugly.

"Way before you made a move, Bobby. I knew all along it was you."

There was nothing Bobby could say to that, and so he left, taking the Viper and restarting the engine. Gambit watched his brother and the offer of a return to his old life leave, something tugging at his heart akin to rightness and regret. At least, he thought, there's one t'ief in New Orleans don't t'ink too bad of Gambit.

"Remy," Blaze asked softly, touching Gambit's elbow gently and looking up at him with melting brown eyes like a kitten. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'se fine Petite." Gambit acknowledged. "It over now, non?"

"Uh-huh." Blaze affirmed, glancing to watch the car disappear up into the hills. When she spoke again, her voice was tinted with good humour. "So how long will it be before he realises we've conned him?"

"Knowin' Bobby, he be back in New Orleans." Gambit let himself be amused, tugging a large golden disc, covered in hieroglyphs and set with a diamond the size of a child's fist out of his coat pocket. He'd taken it whilst Blaze had been distracting Bobby with her carefully timed fall from the window, the bag she'd had a clever decoy.

Behind them on the water, lights bright and cheerful bloomed in not-quite unexpected brilliance. Blaze and Gambit turned together to the sleek yacht, bobbing slightly up and down on the water at the end of a slender gangway. Etoile stood on the deck, smiling at her young associates, waiting to buy off them the Egyptian artefact for a sizable sum. She was expected of course, the briefcase in her hand containing more cash than four of the CDs they'd given up not so long ago.

"Come on, misery guts." Blaze enticed Gambit with a smile, tugging on his arm. "Lets get that horrid thing sold, the sooner the better. Then we can go and have some serious fun with the profit."

"You wanna blow everythin' Etoile tradin' us on one night out?" Gambit grinned, letting her tow him towards the yacht.

"What else are we gonna do with that amount of money at eleven pm in the middle of Monte Carlo?" Blaze pointed out obviously.

"Sometimes Petite you t'ink to much like me." Gambit laughed.

"I'll remind you that you said that when you're complaining that your hangover is all my fault tomorrow." Blaze returned, before squeaking as Remy playfully tried to push her over the edge of the gangplank and into the water. She hung onto him stubbornly, determined that if she fell, he was going in too. "Give it up Rem! I'm not going in there!"

"Wanna bet?" Gambit laughed, but Blaze was already accepting Etoile's offered hand and stepping aboard. The Cajun stopped for a second, looking at the golden trophy in his hand, half imagining the conversations back in New Orleans when Bobby returned empty-handed. But that wasn't his problem, and that wasn't his world. Not anymore…

The End


End file.
